


KockRider

by GinForInk



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Dollification, Dom/sub Undertones, Getting Ignored During Sex, Lots of KartRider, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Pet Names, The dollification is very minor and casual, oh my god they were roommates, slight humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinForInk/pseuds/GinForInk
Summary: Haechan claims that he can get fucked without reacting at all. Mark calls him a liar.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 84
Kudos: 1115





	KockRider

**Author's Note:**

> I know the typical thing in fanfic is to use the person's real name and not their stage name, but I'm going with Haechan instead of Donghyuck. Mostly this is because "Haechan" is just so much easier to type than "Donghyuck", which has a lot of letters typed with the same finger in succession. The second reason is that when I write fic, the characters are much more inspired by their public personas than their private selves, so to use Donghyuck almost seemed inaccurate. I also just really like the name Haechan. 
> 
> Second note. The kinks in this fic are not always negotiated in view of the reader. I think this pair has already established comfort levels on kink exploration during sex, probably still mostly non-verbally, and its working for them but it might not work for everyone. I do know this might still bother some readers, so be aware as you go into it that these two are not the type to talk things out first, but they're also not the type to up the intensity without checking if it's ok.

“No reactions at all?” Mark said, “You?” 

Haechan’s eyes flicked over the top of his phone. He’d turned the volume up to roughly the sound of a human voice so Mark had to talk over it. “Markie, baby, you have no idea,” he purred. His eyes dropped back down to his phone screen. He lay on his stomach across his faded sheets, hoody over his hair and shorts riding high. “My sex voice is a gift,” he said. “I don’t have to give it to you if you don’t respect it.” 

Mark snorted. “A gift? Bro, you want to explain that to Jeno the next time he kicks down our door at four in the morning?” 

“Fuck yeah it's a gift,” Haechan said. “What on earth would you do without it, just fuck in silence, you needy bitch?”

Mark’s guitar lay to the left side of his legs. His text book and notes sat to the right. The clock ticked steadily past 11pm and he hadn’t spent enough time with either in his hands, but Haechan’s goddamn KartRider music had blasted his attention span to pieces already. “Back up,” Mark said, “What are you saying? You think I need your voice to fuck you?” 

Haechan hummed, extra musically, and Mark would be annoyed but he doubted Haechan did it on purpose. That kind of thing happens when your vocal chords are made of honey. “You wouldn’t make it five minutes without me telling you how good you’re doing,” Haechan said. “Have you noticed that you ask how I’m feeling every five minutes whenever we fuck? Like clockwork. Every single time.” 

That would explain why Haechan had started hitting him whenever he asked. Mark rubbed his hands over his reddening face. Sexy talk didn’t come easily to him. He used that line a lot because it was one of the only things he could say during sex that didn’t leave him giggling. “Ok, I don’t need that,” he said. “Fuck off.” 

“Mm,” Haechan said, musical again. His race ended and he pushed himself up just to flop back down on his elbows facing his pillow, expression hidden behind the edge of his hoody. “You’d fucking flail if I wasn’t reassuring you.” 

Mark traced his eyes from the small swell of Haechan’s ass to the spot where his shorts ended and his thighs began, thicker than Mark’s and prettier. Haechan kicked one foot lazily over the other calf. Mark was pretty sure he’d have no problem getting off just humping against those legs without so much as a sigh from Haechan’s mouth. 

He did sigh a lot. A Haechan who felt good was a Haechan without any inhibitions, rolling on the bed and clutching the blankets, moans and squeals pouring from his throat with every brush of Mark’s hands. 

Which is why he hadn’t believed it for a minute when Haechan said he’d gotten off the night before when Mark had been in the room the whole time, pretending to sleep while he actually stared at the wall and vividly imagined cussing out his computer science professor. Haechan had gotten up once. He’d turned over a couple times. Mark hadn’t heard anything else over the whisper of the air conditioner. They’d been roommates with benefits for a good two months now and Mark had never seen Haechan manage to hold back a single moan.

“You’re a liar,” he said. 

Haechan scoffed. “I wouldn’t even twitch if I didn’t want to,” he said. “Try me. Come over here and fuck my ass and see if you can make me move. You won’t.” 

A small shiver worked his way up Mark’s spine. Months before the first time they fucked—when Haechan came back from class early and bust in on Mark with his dick in his fist, when instead of leaving, he slammed the door shut and climbed onto Mark’s bed with him, when he swallowed Mark’s cock while Mark could do nothing but moan out question marks—months before that, Mark would sit up late and watch Haechan play games. When he could have been getting sleep, he kept his itching eyes open and imagined crawling under Haechan’s desk and getting his head crushed between Haechan’s thighs when he tensed during a tough match. When Haechan flopped on his bed after class, unusually still and quiet, Mark would get flashes of an HD, technicolor image in which he sat on Haechan’s cock and rode him slow and sweet while Haechan just lay there and enjoyed it, only to find out when they started banging that Haechan fucked more like a Worm on a String™ than a rocking horse. 

And even after two months of being roommates with benefits, the fantasies still stuck in Mark’s brain, leaving him wound up and breathless when Haechan’s skin pressed against his. He knew Haechan got around. He knew he probably wasn’t the best lay he’d ever had. They fucked for convenience. The suspicion that Haechan didn’t think he was very good wasn’t new, but hearing it out loud still burned, even if it was completely at odds with the way Haechan’s eyes crossed and he completely lost control of himself every single time they got in bed together. 

Mark pulled his homework into his lap, cheeks prickling with warmth. He nudged his glasses up his nose hard enough to get a sharp sting of pain under his eyebrow. The words blurred anyway. KartRider blared through the room. Mark got through a paragraph about if-else coding statements and then realized he hadn’t read more than two words together the entire paragraph, let alone a whole sentence. He went back and started over, annoyance building like a ball of tension in his throat. 

“I’m not kidding,” Haechan said, suddenly loud. “Get over here and do it.” 

Mark’s head felt like the inside of that giant clocktower from Harry Potter, gears clinking and crashing and pendulums swinging right through his train of thought. His fantasies pulled at his brain, hazy and enticing.

“Unless you think you’ll wuss out.” 

Mark chucked his textbook onto the sheets and stomped the two steps from his bed to Haechan’s. “That what you want?” He hissed. He climbed right up over Haechan’s legs like he’d done a dozen times now. He smacked Haechan’s ass. Normally, Haechan would have jerked under that, tensing and gasping, his hair sliding into his eyes. This time, he didn’t so much as twitch. Mark froze. He waited for any kind of response to tell him to stop or continue. The cheerful burble of Haechan’s kart sliding through a question mark item split the air.

“At least turn the volume down,” Mark said. 

Haechan sighed through his nose and tapped the volume button two clicks lower. Mark pushed his thumbs into the back of one thigh, right up under the leg of Haechan’s shorts. He kneaded, waiting for Haechan to sigh and drop his phone like he usually did, or at least for the muscles under his fingers to tense and release. Nothing happened. He dug harder until it probably hurt. Haechan’s kart drifted perfectly around a sharp corner. Over his shoulder, Mark could see the little orange bar of his name maintaining first place. He lay another stinging smack against the outside of Haechan’s thigh to zero response. 

He sat there, straddling Haechan’s leg, feeling like he’d been left alone in the room. Haechan lay out under him, completely passive and uninterested. An odd rush filled Mark’s ears, and then trickled south. The race ended. Haechan found a new one. 

The lube sat behind the lamp over Haechan’s head. Mark crawled right up his body, one hand shoving his shoulder down, a knee in the middle of his back. As Haechan listed to the side, still angled towards his phone despite being used as a bridge, Mark caught sight of his face. His round eyes looked utterly blank in the shiny light of his phone screen, as bored as he’d been for the past hour he’d been playing. He didn’t look up as Mark snatched the lube and a condom and clambered back down the bed. Something hot and sour bloomed up out of Mark’s chest. 

Haechan didn’t move to help him with his shorts. It was up to Mark to shove one of his hips up, and then the other, yanking each side over his hipbones. Haechan was still soft. Only after Mark nail caught Haechan’s skin while ripping his shorts down his thighs did he realize how hard his heart was pounding. He rubbed a thumb over the red line he’d left on Haechan’s thigh. Little white flakes of skin came away. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, and dropped a kiss on it. The sound of someone getting caught in a big bubble onscreen answered him. 

Haechan always looked smaller than expected out of his clothes. Even when he wore skinny jeans and a t-shirt that fit, he had a confidence that filled him out. With his shorts off, his legs seemed to shrink, absurdly delicate sticking out from under the blanketing folds of his dark green hoody. Mark pushed that higher up his back to see the understated pinch of his waist, the little dips at the base of his spine. Where Mark was all sharp angles, Haechan tended to curve. Doll-like. 

Mark ducked down and bit his ass. When Haechan didn’t flinch, he stayed there, working his teeth gently against the small swell, getting a feel for the chew. It gave beautifully. The smell of bath wash and clean skin hugged him closely, getting a little muskier deeper in. Mark nuzzled his face close to nip at his other ass cheek and nearly knocked his glasses off his face. Further up the bed, the race ended. Mark glanced up to see his slot in first again. He sat up. 

White toothmarks stood out against the reddening skin near the bottom curve of Haechan’s left ass cheek. Mark knew those colors on Haechan’s skin meant a bruise within a little while, one he’d feel every time he sat for the next few days. 

Mark hesitated, staring at the hunch of Haechan’s back, looking for any sign that he’d gone too far. One of Haechan’s shoulders tensed as he drifted through a short cut. 

“If you seriously want me to stop, just tell me to,” Mark said. “Or kick me or something.” 

Haechan threw a lazy thumbs up over his shoulder and went right back to his game.

Mark went back to the thighs. He didn’t usually get to spend a whole lot of time there. With Haechan’s usual noisiness came demands. Thigh massages turned into thigh riding within a couple minutes. If teasing touches didn’t lead to heavy petting right where Haechan wanted it, he would shove Mark off and start doing it himself. Mark placed a hand low on the inside of his knee and ran it slowly, slowly upwards until he could push his thumb through the slight crease just under his ass, stretching the skin, letting it sink back into place. 

Goosebumps erupted under the trail of his thumb. He leaned forward and breathed against the back of his balls, just barely visible between his legs. When nothing happened, he trailed his hand down the inside of Haechan’s other leg and tickled the back of his knee. Still nothing. That was probably weird. He probably just did a weird thing. He sat back, itching with discomfort, and raked his nails down the back of both of Haechan’s thighs. The skin bounced back into place. 

Mark forgot about looking for reactions. He pulled Haechan’s cheeks apart and got a brief glimpse of his pucker before letting them bounce back together. He trailed his fingers over the dips at the base of his spine, really getting to know the contour, which he usually only felt when they were rocking into each other. It reminded him of a smooth stone his mom once bought him, one with a shallow indent in one side that he was supposed to use as stress relieve instead of a fidget spinner. 

He trailed his hands up Haechan’s sides, usually ticklish, and then back down the center of his spine. Movement caught his eye. Had the rise and fall of Haechan’s lungs always been visible in their position, or had his breathing gotten deeper? 

Without really thinking about it, Mark grabbed one of Haechan’s knees and pushed it wider. He met no resistance but the friction of the bedsheets and the limit of Haechan’s flexibility. It was easier than he’d expected. Haechan’s whole body rocked as his weight redistributed onto one side. Mark could now see the top and corner of his phone screen as he texted someone. The name looked like “Jeno” but even with his glasses, it was hard to tell at a distance. Mark pulled Haechan higher onto his hip and he went easily, maneuverable and light. Mark let go and he flopped back down onto his stomach. 

Doll-like. 

Arousal sank into Mark’s gut like a hot stone through jello. It punched like the way it used to in high school. Haechan lay out in front of him, legs spread for Mark to fit between them, so utterly passive, and Mark’s cock ached. 

He cupped Haechan’s balls in his hand, rolling them like those metal balls with the bells in them that he always saw in gift shops. Haechan usually got squirmy when he tried to do that, but he lay perfectly still as Mark played. They were smaller than Mark’s, and his pubic hair had a slightly softer texture. They were kind of cute honestly. Mark had been wanting to just hold them. 

That was probably weird. He was being weird. Haechan was going to have so much fucking ammunition to tease him when this was over. He should probably stop—

Mark’s phone dinged loudly in the pocket of his shorts just after Haechan finished typing and opened KartRider again. Mark pulled it out and nearly dropped it with his shaking hands. One text from “roommate from hell” sat on his homescreen.

**holy shit dude**

“Did you just text me while I’m literally playing with your ballsack?”

Haechan’s back shook with quiet laughter, the first real reaction since they’d started. Mark slapped his ass again and the laughter stopped. Mark popped the lube cap open loudly, which usually had Haechan practically wagging his tail as he pressed back for it, but Haechan stayed where he was, awkwardly propped open with one knee splayed out to the side. Through his legs, Mark could barely see the base of his cock caught between his stomach and the sheets, looking like it might be hard. 

Mark shoved the knee up farther, this time bracing it against the bed. The angle didn’t improve much, but Mark knew where to press with his lubed-up fingers to slip between Haechan’s cheeks and against his hole. He drew little circles there, watching the edge of Haechan’s face that he could see for any of the usual signs, the flutter of eyelashes, the pout of his pretty lips, the long, low moans he usually gave as Mark began. Haechan scrunched his nose and sniffed. 

The muscles didn’t even pulse or flutter like normal. Mark had nothing but trust to go on as he pushed his finger past his pucker. His jaw dropped at just how easily Haechan gave way, how relaxed he felt, incredibly tight, but incredibly giving, just smooth and warm all the way to the base of Mark’s fingers without a hint of tension. He prodded forward, thrusting, feeling the soft heat his dick would fit into soon, and need throbbed through him. 

“Christ,” he hissed. He curled his fingers right where he knew to find Haechan’s hot spot. He felt it, spongy on his fingertip. He worked his wrist, drawing circles on it harder and harder to absolutely unnerving stillness. Even Haechan’s back stopped moving. 

Which meant he’d stopped breathing. Mark let up on the pressure. Another slow, measured breath expanded Haechan’s lungs under his hoody. Mark carefully braced his whole forearm on Haechan’s lower back, then flicked over the spot as quickly as he could when up to his knuckles in tight ass, waiting for the usual squirming and squealing that came with it. Instead, Haechan reached down and absently scratched his knee. 

“Really?” Mark gasped. Haechan blinked at his phone and said nothing. 

Mark realized, through the shock, that it wasn’t that Haechan faked the reactions all the time. Of course he didn’t. People could come in and out of reaction modes. Mark had one mode where he let himself laugh at anything, which he turned off in class and when Renjun wanted to talk about something tragic that happened to him on a date. Haechan had a mode where he reacted like a live wire to touch and one where he let it happen to him without responding. 

The realization didn’t stop discomfort from pummeling Mark in the gut as he worked his wrist harder and harder into Haechan’s ass, adding more and more lube, and Haechan didn’t let out even the softest sigh. His throat felt tight and his hand scratched uncertainly against Haechan’s lower back. 

But at the same time, as Haechan remained perfectly lax under Mark’s grinding fingers, a deep heat burned through his chest. Haechan lay so easy and let Mark into this mode he usually kept to himself, remained a body for Mark to fuck into. The way he lay there and let Mark do whatever he wanted hit Mark between the legs over and over. “You ever do this by yourself?” Mark said. “Put your toys in and play games while it works you up?” 

Haechan didn’t answer, and Mark put new energy into working his lube-slick fingers deeper, trying to get his breath to catch, his leg to twitch, anything to show he felt it. 

Mark’s phone dinged again. He yanked it off the sheets. 

**Gotta get through homework somehow.**

Perfect grammer and punctuation, even with his hole greedily sucking in Mark’s fingers. Mark’s cock jerked against the front of his shorts. 

“The blue vibrator?” Mark said. His own voice shook in his throat. 

One thumbs up emoji. 

Heat raced in waves down Mark’s arms until his fingers trembled, thinking about Haechan sitting in his desk chair across the room every evening, tapping away on his computer with Mark in the room, one of the only times he became quiet and calm. All Mark’s fantasies about coming up behind Haechan and sucking on his neck while Mark jerked him off where he sat took on new color. 

“Fuck that’s amazing,” Mark gasped. He tossed his phone back on the sheets to yank his shorts off. The fabric dragged a small bead a precum over his skin, which his t-shirt immediately stuck to, and he couldn’t be bothered to care with Haechan’s hole gaping easily to the open air as Mark pushed his cheeks apart. He rolled the condom on as fast as he could without ripping it. 

Mark straddled the thigh of Haechan’s straightened leg and pushed his other thigh up higher so he could slide in sideways. Haechan’s body shifted so easily despite lying mostly his front, angled towards his phone. His hips twisted, flexible and light under Mark’s hands, but with enough weight to make the heft satisfying. 

“God, it’s like you’re my toy,” Mark breathed. He glanced up just in time to watch Haechan slam his kart into a wall and slip from third place into sixth. Mark slammed his hips forward and the kart dove right off the track. Haechan sighed through his nose and waited for the game to drop him back where he needed to go. 

Mark had never fucked Haechan on his side. Haechan preferred either riding or hands and knees where he could get a lot of leverage. Mark had fucked Jeno on his side the night they’d met, and then they’d never hooked up again, but it was one of his favorite positions. It didn’t feel particularly sexy, but Haechan’s passage remained even tighter than normal because of the angle of his body, and Mark had plenty of room for his knees. His balls dragged along the smooth skin of Haechan’s inner thigh. 

And Haechan did nothing. No sheet grabbing, no hair pulling, no incessant whining, no kicking Mark to hurry up and go faster. Mark could sit there and enjoy the feeling as long as he wanted. He could grind in that shallow, quick way that felt so good just to him, and Haechan, bound by his challenge, wouldn’t complain. An overpowering euphoria flowed out from the motion of his hips, sending obscene groans from his open throat. 

All awareness slid slowly away as the pleasure rinsed the inside of his head. He gripped the body under him and fucked a hole. The frenetic KartRider music blended into a perfect soundtrack. His pace lengthened when it began to feel better to go low and long, quickened when he found an angle he liked. His chest absolutely rattled with his gasping, guttural moans, the ones he usually kept in when he thought someone could be listening. 

He came back to himself when the KartRider music signaled an end screen. He glanced up and saw Haechan’s Kart sitting absolutely still somewhere on the track that was nowhere near the finish line, fingers frozen, his character crying onscreen with his orange bar over 8th place. Mark’s rhythm stuttered as he laughed. Haechan’s chest still rose and fell with slow deep breaths, all the way down to his diaphragm. 

“Oh, baby doll,” Mark said, which was a pet name that had never come from his mouth before. Haechan decisively tapped the home button and opened TikTok instead. 

He’d turned the volume down further, but the flashing screen distracted Mark from focusing on his stroke game. He pulled out—without getting kicked and whined at for once—and rolled Haechan’s hips all the way over to get him on his back. The rest of his body followed the motion slowly, one shoulder shifting upwards. Mark shoved it to the blankets, haphazardly flattening him on his back. His phone screen was no longer visible. 

Mark sat on his heels and took in the view. Haechan had begun to look disheveled, perspiration on his little button nose shining in the light of his phone screen, hood askew. His hoody crumpled at the base of his ribs, revealing to the room his furiously purple cockhead and precum smeared across his lower belly.

“Oh my god, look at this,” Mark said. He squeezed it, one quick brush of his hand, one punishing grip. Haechan’s lips parted a fraction but he could have just been reacting to a TikTok. “You like this so much,” Mark groaned. “Fuck.” 

He shoved Haechan’s arms further over his head to make room for him to get in close. Haechan’s eyes followed his screen, but Mark slid in and bit his lower lip. “Dollface,” he said. “Look at these.” He pressed his thumb across both lips and watched them plump on either side. Haechan’s round eyes gazed unblinking straight up into the air as Mark pressed a kiss to every mole he usually didn’t have time to love on. He ignored how his glasses brushed against Haechan’s skin. Whatever else happened, he needed to see it, like the hot flush riding high on Haechan’s pretty cheeks and the way the light caught on the texture of his skin where it dipped at the edge of his belly button. He could stand fogging up his glasses for that. 

When Mark withdrew back to the space between Haechan’s splayed legs, his rock-hard cock only looked darker, the veins even more prominent. A fresh puddle of precum shone on his skin. Mark dipped his head and licked it up. One tan thigh twitched ever so slightly against Mark’s shoulder. He kept his lips pressed to the purple tip of Haechan’s cock when he laughed, but the twitch didn’t happen again. 

On a normal night, Mark would feel the need to warn Haechan that he probably wasn’t going to last long, but he didn’t really feel like telling him shit at the moment. Instead, he cashed in on all those hours at the gym to lift the dead weight of Haechan’s legs and brace them against his chest and shoulders. The soft cotton of his t-shirt rasped between them, too much of a barrier, but Mark couldn’t let go long enough to get it off. 

He’d never call Haechan’s legs dainty out loud, but he’d thought it before. Sometimes they reminded him of Barbie legs, long and slender with just the gentlest curves. Mark turned his head to the side and grabbed a mouthful of smooth skin between his teeth. What little leg hair Haechan managed to grow on his calves tickled his tongue. 

Up the bed, some viral eight bit song from a computer game looped twice before some indistinct voices played instead, then a quick clip of Ariana’s Positions. 

Somehow that got Mark moving again. He only had to push Haechan up a little, lean slightly against the resistance of his legs, to get in a position to push in again. Haechan gaped for him. He slid right in with what should have been an embarrassing whimper if he was in any headspace to care. Slick heat swallowed him up, no clenching, no squirming. Haechan didn’t wrap a leg around his waist to control the pace. He didn’t grab a fistful of Mark’s hair to steer him where he wanted. 

“I can’t believe you can just turn it off,” he groaned. “That’s so amazing. Look at—” he jostled Haechan’s leg, which slipped off his shoulder and hung limp in the air. The splay would have been comical if it didn’t put him in a pose straight out of hentai. Mark made a noise like he’d been sucker punched. 

Haechan’s relaxed body on Mark’s cock felt better than he could have imagined. He probably felt right then like how he felt from the inside when he studied in the library, when he asked questions in class, when he slept. No one had ever felt that before, but Mark had. He’d know what it felt like every time he saw Haechan playing games on his bed from now on. 

Mark started rocking again, making those legs flop around some more. The flesh of Haechan’s thighs squished against his fingers. Mark bit down again, really getting that texture under his tooth. Haechan’s sad neglected little cock coughed up more precum. The puddle had grown enough to drip towards his hoody when Mark rolled him up. 

Mark leaned forward, let one leg go and watched it drop sideways over his own thigh, straightening and making the angle a little harder. Mark needed his hand though. The untouched skin under Haechan’s hoody called him, all those moles on his chest he loved so much. He brushed his fingers under the bunched-up hem and slid slowly up towards Haechan’s neck, baring more and more of his body. 

The fabric scrunched and pulled, still caught under Haechan’s back, until it stopped his hand dead center of Haechan’s chest. One brown nipple peeked out on one side. Mark leaned weight into it, felt Haechan suck in air to hold him, though his face didn’t change. More precum dripped onto his stomach. 

Mark stayed there working his hips until he felt Haechan struggling to draw in more air. The low background of meme chaos and familiar song clips played close to Mark’s head, but the volume had gotten even lower, low enough that Mark could hear the air rush into Haechan’s lungs when he finally let up. His doll-like lips hung further open than they’d been, far enough for Mark to see the tips of his two front teeth. He stared straight forward at his phone, glazed over, flipping through clips before they finished. 

“I can’t do anything without you making noise at me, huh?” Mark growled. “That’s what you thought?” He dug his fingers into Haechan’s thigh that rested across his own and shoved it to the bed, jarring and forceful. “You just don’t know how much I love your fucking body.”

Just a hint of tongue flicked across Haechan’s lower lip.

Mark could taste the edge, creeping closer with every smooth slide. That wouldn’t do, not with Haechan still straight-faced and still. He released the leg he had pressed to the sheets, let it hang awkwardly folded to the side of his body where his flexibility couldn’t sustain letting it fully fall. With his new free hand, he coated his palm with the precum on Haechan’s stomach. 

He slipped the ring of his fingers around Haechan’s burning hot cock. Haechan’s eyebrow twitched. “How close are you, baby?” Mark growled. Haechan’s jaw clenched as he swallowed. Mark started jerking, hand tight and fast down the shaft as he punched in, slick and fast back up as he pulled out. After a few strokes, he stayed at the tip, kneading into that sensitive spot just under the head and squeezing with the rest of his fingers. 

Haechan’s cock flexed into Mark’s palm. His walls subtly, smoothly tightened around Mark’s shaft. For a moment, Mark wondered if he had only imagined it through his own frantic rocking, then Haechan fucking poured cum all over his belly. Jizz striped Mark’s fingers and splattered up above Haechan’s belly button. Instead of his usual operatic O face, Haechan’s eyes tightened slightly. His lips pouted just a touch. Mark squeezed tighter, thrust faster, giving no thought to the groan rattling in his own chest. 

Haechan dropped his phone on his face. 

He flinched even before it hit him, and the jerk travelled through his whole body. After so much stillness, the sudden clench of his hole knocked the air out of Mark’s chest, as did the knee against his ribs. “Ow,” Haechan said weakly. He fumbled to get the phone back in one hand as he tried to rub his face with the other. 

Mark squeezed the cock in his fist and watched in fascination as Haechan’s stomach tensed and his eyebrows pulled in. 

“Still good?” Mark said. 

“Hng,” Haechan said, still trying to shuffle his phone back overhead. Mark leaned in closer, getting the leverage to really chase his own finish. A sharp, shuddering gasp tore out of Haechan’s throat. His thighs clenched against Mark’s sides. 

“Fuck yes,” Mark hissed. He smeared his cum-covered hand across Haechan’s leg as he tried to get a good grip. 

“Ah! M—mm” Haechan said. His expression became concentrated, then pained. A little aborted whimper rang through his honeyed throat. Those lovely thighs started trembling like something out of a porno, clenching tighter against Mark’s body. They always did when he overstimulated himself riding Mark’s cock, but he’d never let Mark go so far on his own power. 

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” Mark said. 

Haechan’s nose scrunched hard and he shook his head once. He finally dropped his arms to hug his own chest and his phone slipped from his fingers. Something like a sob shattered through the air, and then shifted into pitchy, frantic panting as Haechan’s whole body drew tight. “M-Mark!” he shouted. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” 

Sections of his body kept trying to drop back into the limp state he’d maintained the whole time. One leg would fall, and then clench back to Mark’s side again. His back flattened to the bed only to twist with Mark’s next hard thrust. Mark gripped Haechan’s hips and watched him writhe until his own release broke over him, a shivering wave up his spine throwing his head back. He mewled at the ceiling, grinding deep through the aftershocks. Haechan’s walls squeezed tight around him. 

Mark slowed to a stop still buried inside, the post-orgasm tingles rushing under his skin. Haechan’s squealing faded into choked gasps straining through his flannel-warm voice. His clenching, shaking legs still clutched Mark’s sides. 

“I’m gonna pull—” 

“Don’t move!” One hand fisted in the front of Mark’s shirt, holding him where he leaned over Haechan’s body. “Don’t move,” Haechan gasped again. His trembling vibrated through his arm and into Mark’s shirt. 

“Dude, the way you’re clenching is getting to be too much for me too, bro.” 

Haechan whimpered desperately. “Shit,” he said. His breathing wasn’t slowing. He squeezed his eyes shut. He pried his legs off Mark’s sides. The shift had both of them sucking air in through their teeth. “Mark,” he gurgled through his useless throat, “you’re so in for it next time I top.” 

Mark chuckled and pulled out. The thighs smacked back into his sides. 

“Oof.” 

“Sorry.” 

“So you’re talking to me now?” 

Haechan released Mark’s shirt and used a foot to push him off. The dorm room came back into wide focus, the Michael Jackson poster over Haechan’s bed and the dumb Celtic knot tie-dyed tapestry Mark bought freshman year for the vibes that he now used just to cover the cinder-block wall behind his dresser. Haechan rolled slowly into his side and grabbed the scruff of his hoody to pull it over his head. The t-shirt underneath was crumpled up under his armpits. He didn’t adjust it. 

Mark carefully tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash. He grabbed the wet wipes. “So you’ve got one hell of a talent right there,” Mark said. 

“One of many.”

“Oh shut up. Lift your leg for me.” 

Haechan scrunched up his face and pulled his leg higher so Mark could get right in there with his wet wipes. “Sure showed you,” he groaned.

“Uh-huh,” Mark said. He made sure to get the smeared cum handprints he’d left all over Haechan’s thigh. “Showed me real good.” Haechan continued to tense and shiver as Mark brushed the wipes over Haechan’s cock. “Can’t hold still now though. Am I too much for you, baby doll?”

Haechan’s hand snapped up to the back of Mark’s head and shoved him down towards his crotch. Mark had time to yelp and scramble for balance before his lips and nose jammed right into the base of Haechan’s cock, half hard again despite everything. 

“More,” Haechan gasped. “Fuck, please, Mark you’re fucking killing me.” 

Mark opened his mouth and laved his tongue over what he could reach. Haechan whimpered above him, still clutching Mark’s head and making it impossible to move. He didn’t seem able to move either, hips stuttering against Mark’s face like he was trying to grind but couldn’t force himself to take the sensation. 

Mark dropped the wet wipes and pulled Haechan’s hands away from his head so he could move on his own. “Mark,” Haechan said. Mark barred an arm across his hips and swallowed him as deep as he could. A shout punched out of Haechan’s chest. One hand knotted right back into Mark’s hair, tight but not pushing. “Please,” he sobbed in a voice Mark had never heard him use before. “Oh god, Mark.” 

On any normal night, Haechan liked to steer. He’d reverted back, arms and legs prepared to push Mark the way he wanted, but when Mark slid two fingers back into his lube-slick ass, he stopped himself. He tensed, squeezed, tried to force himself to relax again.

Haechan’s prostate felt so swollen, so abused. Mark pulled his hair out of Haechan’s grip and went right back to swallowing him deeper. When Haechan braced a trembling hand against his shoulder, he pushed it off. Power swelled through him, hot and heady. He worked his fingers in rhythm with his tongue and kept his eyes wide open and staring right at Haechan’s twitching, rolling body, the underside of his chin, the frantic pulse of his breath stuttering in his chest. 

After so much silence, wild sobbing sounded so satisfying. Mark moaned against Haechan’s balls with almost a growl and sucked one between his lips. Haechan shrieked and kicked the sheets. He lifted his head and stared down like he meant to look offended, but tears streaked his face. Mark held eye contact as he spread his lips and licked from Haechan’s base to his tip, fingers flicking fast and hard deep in him. Haechan stopped breathing. He arched back like he’d been possessed. His cock twitched. Mark pulled back in time to catch the weak spray across his cheek. 

Mark took his hands off fast before his touch turned punishing. Haechan flopped out against the sheets again. Sweat collected in his hairline. Mark didn’t even bother asking if he was alright, just sat there and admired every line until Haechan could open his eyes. He blinked at the ceiling, breathing slowly evening out. Finally, he glanced down, caught sight of the mess on Mark’s face, and yelped like Mark had pinched him. He threw an arm over his eyes. 

“I’m going to clean up,” Mark said. “Let me know when I can touch you again.” 

Haechan only shook his head. Mark waited for the one-liner, or the snark. Or the whining. But Haechan seemed to be at a legitimate loss for words, just dead weight on his bedsheets. 

“Wow,” Mark laughed. “You’ve never been like this before.” 

Haechan waved a tired hand at him and Mark got up to find the wet wipe pack again. 

A little while later after Mark had shoved a handful of defiled wet wipes deep in the trash can and finally pulled his shirt off over his head, someone knocked on the door. 

“Go away!” Haechan wailed. 

Mark laughed and tossed Haechan’s hoody over his hips. Haechan jolted and whimpered. “One moment!” Mark yelled. He pulled on a clean pair of underwear and opened the door. Jaemin stood on the other side, bundled in pajamas and looking very put out.

“Oh, hey dude,” Mark said. “Sorry about all the, um…yeah. Sorry.” 

Jaemin’s eyes skated down Mark’s shirtless, pantsless body. An eyebrow shot up and a small smirk appeared on his lips. “Markie-Mark,” he said. “Look at you. Getting braver, are we?” He shoved a bag of take-out into Mark’s hands. 

“Huh?”

“Get your carbs back,” he said. “Please take care of yourselves. Maybe use a gag next time? On both of you?” In the living room behind him, Jeno had his sound cancelling headphones on. He stared over the back of the couch with unashamed curiosity. 

Jaemin grabbed the door handle and shut it in Mark’s face. When Mark turned back around, Haechan was finally sitting up, blinking dazedly around the room. 

“Smells like burgers,” Mark said. 

“Wipes?” 

Mark tossed them at him. They hit his chest and fell into his lap. 

“So like,” Haechan said, still not touching the wipes, “where has that energy been for the last few months?” 

“Smothered under your control kink,” Mark said. 

“What control kink?” Haechan snorted. “After what you just did, do you really still think I have a control kink?” Haechan tossed his hoody off his lap and flopped onto his back so he could start rubbing the wipes between his legs.

“You don’t?” Mark said. “Really seemed like you get off on ordering me around.”

Haechan glared without lifting his head. He’d gone back to brashly boyish, legs spread and posture square. His t-shirt covered his slender waist, boxy once again. “I didn’t know,” he grumbled. “Like, damn. Fuck. Didn’t even know you had it in you. God. Fuck.” 

Mark took a big bite of burger, always awkward with compliments. He chewed and swallowed, trying to keep the smug smile off his face. “Don’t get me wrong,” Mark said. “I like you loud, but can we do that again? Like, a lot?” 

Haechan nodded fast and hard. “Anytime you want. Literally any time. Like I wouldn’t be mad if you woke me up like that sometimes.” 

Mark choked on his burger. 

“It’s one thing for me to turn my reactions off,” Haechan continued as Mark tried not to cough, “like I’ve been doing that every time I jerk off since I was like twelve. But how do you turn that _on_?”

“Turn what on?” Mark said when his throat finished spasming. 

Haechan scoffed. He finally sat up and rolled off the bed. He staggered to his dresser to grab some pants. Mark admired the bruise darkening on his ass until he pulled his sweat pants up. “Give me the fries,” he said. 

“No seriously,” Mark said, “turn what on?”

Haechan glared and grabbed the fries himself. He shoved a handful in his mouth. His fluffy brown hair stuck up comically around his head. He grabbed the paper towels off the dresser and tore some off. Mark finished another few bites before Haechan looked at him again. He had an unusual frown on. 

“You good?” Mark said. 

Haechan crawled back onto the bed. He pushed the food aside and crammed into Mark’s space, gracelessly straddling his lap. Mark floundered, burger in one hand, the other trying to find a neutral space to land to help steady him. Haechan settled his weight on Mark’s hips. He cupped Mark’s face in his hands, thumbs over his cheekbones. That strange frown didn’t leave his face. 

“What?” 

Haechan kissed him, not deep and wet, just lips against lips, a little hint of teeth, slow and basic and completely unusual. Nice, even with the salty fry oil on his lips. Mark stroked his free hand up Haechan’s back and felt sweat damp in his shirt. 

“We gotta shower,” he murmured against Haechan’s lips. 

Haechan sighed. “Yuh.” 

“Should I go first?” 

“There’s room for two people in there,” Haechan said. “And I might need help standing. Your fault. Take responsibility.” 

“Shower with you?” Mark said. 

“Or don’t, if you’re going to be weird about it.” 

“You’re the one being weird,” Mark said. Haechan rolled his eyes and crawled off his lap. On any normal night, Mark would have put his hands up and backed off, but his veins still buzzed with whatever Haechan’s body had injected into him, and he’d gotten a little addicted to moving Haechan’s body how he liked to. He caught Haechan around his waist and pulled him back into his lap. 

“Eat,” he said, shoving the last half of his burger in Haechan’s face. Haechan suddenly faced the desk lamp, and Mark could see the red still burning on his cheeks as he opened his mouth and let Mark feed him. His eyelashes fluttered and his perfect heart-shaped lips brushed Mark’s fingers. “Baby doll,” Mark said again. Haechan’s eyes fluttered closed. His head dropped onto Mark’s shoulder. “Pretty.” 

“How do you do that?” Haechan asked. 

Mark dropped his burger back into the takeout box and kissed the mayonnaise and cheese off Haechan’s lips. “You’re never going to get through a full game of KartRider again,” Mark said. “Play that anywhere near me and I’m just gonna bend you over.” 

Haechan reached for his phone.

“Not now! God, your dick is gonna fall off.” 

“Your lack of faith disturbs me.” 

“Just eat your goddamn burger, you gremlin.”

Mark stayed up a little too late that night, staring, not at the wall this time, but at the shadow of the lump in Haechan’s bed, barely distinguishable from the posters behind it in the dim light through the blinds. Every second of the evening ran through his head, from the challenge to the feeling of Haechan’s legs hanging limply from his arms, to Haechan punching his shoulder for taking his sweet time cleaning out his ass in the shower. His cock hardened again slowly like it resented him for making it work overtime.

Mark’s train of thought ran ahead of him into possible futures: going down on Haechan as he did his homework, fucking him while he tried to beat a level in Mario. He wondered if it worked the other way, if Haechan could fuck him with his full attention on Animal Crossing or if it would just be cock warming. He wondered if Haechan would go and find other people to fuck him while he ignored them too, and then wondered if there was a way he could convince Haechan to only let him do it. He got so caught up constructing his argument that he nearly missed the minute movement of Haechan’s covers. 

“Are you doing it now?” he hissed.

The covers jolted. “Fuck, I thought you were asleep.” 

“How are you still going? Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Haechan huffed. “Yeah. I’m just so turned on. Still thinking about…” 

“Still thinking about me?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck me?” 

“Get over here, loser.” 

Mark threw his covers off and stomped over, dick ready, and his baby doll opened his legs and let him in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come visit me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/GinforInk).


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